Cinnamon and sugar
by 07654
Summary: I dont even know how to summerize this, Frary longing with Mash unhappiness
1. Cinnamon and Sugar

Summer vacation is already getting boring so I've decided to write abit, I might continue this! Please leave suggestions/prompts for Frary stories I am quite unimaginative!

* * *

I feel a jolt in the darkness, followed by a deep groan. Sebastian rolls over noisily, grunting and snorting. Like a horse, I can't help but notice. I sigh as his snores vibrate the old wooden bed frame. He may be slowly learning to be the perfect gentleman by day, but when unconscious his manors revert back to how they were before we wed. The few hours of sleep I do manage to find around his restlessness are often interrupted by a flailing arm striking me or foot kicking my bare shin, often leaving light purple marks. Inhaling, his smell of pine, dirt and sweat flood my nostrils, making me want to gag. Another thing I still hadn't adjusted to. He refuses the soaps and lotions the servants prepare for him, claiming that if those outside the castle can live without them so can he. I think little of his morals, we are so fortunate and any waste seems unthoughtful and foolish. I make sure to pack his cast offs and send them home with the servants.

Sleepless nights like this always bring Francis to the front of my mind. He smelt of cinnamon and sugar, something that was added to his baths. A perfect compliment to the vanilla oils I prefer. The hue of cinnamon and winter spice is sometimes left in his wake as he shoots past me down corridors. Each time I have to stop myself from inhaling to deeply. Sleep almost always came quickly when I was with him, his arms would twine around me from behind and his soft, even breaths would lull me into slumber. On those nights when I was too worried to sleep, Scotland and France stuck in my mind, he would hold my head against his chest and whisper into my hair, his fingers flitting up and down my arm until my troubles melted into nothing. He would brush my hair and wipe tears with quick moving thumbs, kissing my cheeks before more could fall onto them.

Memories of our intimacy ache in my heart as I turn my head towards Sebastian's turned back. We've barely touched since our consummation, which had been awkward and uncomfortable. I spent dinners and parties with my friends. I took meetings with courtiers alone. When we were expected to dance, our bodies were rigid and my eyes looked everywhere except for his face. They so often fell on the lanky blonde boy who always stood in the corner, his face expressionless and eyes hollow. I know it isn't fair on Bash, I decided his fate for him without permission and forced him into our loveless union. I catch him looking at me longingly in my nightgowns from time to time and instantly feel bashful and somewhat annoyed, followed by guilt. I'm his wife, this is what I should be able to offer him. But I can't, I don't want him looking at me. I only want one person to look at me in that way and it's not my husband.


	2. Bruised Lips and A Broken Heart

**This fic ****_might_**** end in Frary fluff but I've got to get some angst in there whilst I can! Sorry guys.**

* * *

When I wake the next day the bed is cold beside me. Sebastian has stoked the fire and left a cup of water by my bedside. His chivalry makes my heart hurt, I know he loves me still. If only I could do the same. If I was any other girl I would be ecstatic with my situation. Sebastian is a handsome man, his eyes are the colour of the turquoise stones that adorn some of my dresses and his years of riding and sword fighting have earned him an impressive physique. Despite his flirting and cheeky nature (that I'm sure he inherited from his father), you cannot doubt he is a good man with a strong heart. He's just not the man I want. The muffled sound of galloping pulls me from the bed to the window just in time to see him and his guards disappear into the woods for their morning ride. It's become a habit. He leaves before I wake so I can dress and go to eat before he returns home. This routine has become comfortable yet uncomfortable at the same time. An unspoken agreement to stay as far away from one another as possible.

The morning draft from the thin glass has left me thoroughly awake and when Lola, Greer and Kenna walk in I'm already rifling through stacks of dresses.

''Good morning,'' I greet them, holding a deep green gown to my body and turning to them, ''What do you think?''

''_Mary, _no!'' Greer despairs, rushing over to me. She swipes the velvet dress from my hands and throws it back to the pile, ''its the first day of spring! We have the festivities today, remember?''

''So what?''

''_So_,'' Kenna saunters over to where I stand, putting both hands on each of my shoulders ''you have to wear something light and... floaty.'' She guides me to the ornate chair in front of my mirror, smiling to herself, ''You want Bash to think you're some kind of spring fairy.''

My face falls at the mention of him and Kenna's easy use of the nickname that I've hardened myself against. It just feels too familiar. The change in the atmosphere is palpable and Kenna's face falls, she so easily speaks before thinking. I gather my thoughts and smile, my hand going to rest on her's that's placed on my shoulder. ''You're right, you know I'm useless with things like this. You pick something.''

Lola comes behind me in Kenna's absence and her hands go to my hair, brushing out the tangles of sleep and leaving it long and loose, only two small braids fastened together at the back. I close my eyes against, the heaviness of my long night settling on me like a blanket of snow. As I succumb to the lightest of dozes I feel Greer raising me from my seat and leading me to my dressing area where they pull me into a gown. I look at my reflection in the mirror, the dress is beautiful. It's the lightest shade of pink, its sleeves and waist adorned with pearls, matching to the delicate crown of roses and pearls Lola places amongst my curls. I smile, it's truly beautiful, something Francis would've lo...

When my mind moves to Francis I have to squeeze my eyes tightly and clench my fists, forcing the memory back into its dark corner. I've requested more dresses. Each time I wear one it reminds me of when I wore it in accordance to him. Any dress we kissed in, danced in, even walked in is rendered unwearable, as if his memory sticks to it. I still feel his every touch against its fabric. A horrible waste. Perhaps I am more like Sebastian than I thought. This dress, however, is new and fresh and Greer tells me it's from Paris. Perfect for the spring occasion. I smile and step down from where we're stood. Linking arms with Lola, we move from the room in search of something to do before the evening celebrations.

* * *

We end up sitting on thick blankets on the front lawn, newly visible now the winter snow has subsided. The pale sunlight seems to melt my troubles like the snow and I relax, lying down on the thick wool. My duties have been postponed for the day, the castle bustling with preparation. These rare moment of peace with my friends are to be cherished. Kenna lounges next to me, making a chain of flowers that grow in clusters and Greer reads to us from a book. When her voice falters and stops, I push myself up from the floor and follow her gaze to where a tall man is emerging from the gate, bow and arrow under one arm. He is clothed in black from head to foot and his hair is unmistakably blonde. I want to walk over to him in equal balance to wanting the ground to swallow me up. We hadn't spoken since he found out about Sebastian's legitimization and tried to speak sense into me, which ended with our clothes scattered and me pressed against the door of my chambers. I hadn't given in and he'd left me. Left me with bruised lips and a broken heart.

His pace slows as he reaches our group, eyes fixed on mine. He stops about ten feet away, never breaking eye contact. My body moves before my mind and I find myself on my feet, left arm slightly outstretched, right arm still holding the trail of flowers I had begun to braid. We stay like this for I don't know how long. I wish I could say something but my mouth feels as dry as the hot summer. The tension is broken by my name being called from across the lawn and a sudden scent of horses, sweat and pine at my side. I turn to see Sebastian standing at close. When I look back Francis is retreating into the castle.

''Good morning,'' Sebastian greets me. His eyes are cloudy, troubled, '' You look beautiful. Why was Francis here.'' His dislike of Francis' presence was thick in his tone. Francis had been forced to stay so his little brothers weren't left with no one in the world.

I am still lost in the moment. The sight of Francis is so rare these days. Raking my thoughts together I force a smile that doesn't reach my eyes, ''I'm not sure, he was just passing I think. We didn't speak.''

He seems to relax and offers me his arm, ''Would your lovely ladies mind if I stole you for breakfast?''

They wave me away and tell me they'll join me later, so I have no other option but to slide my arm through his and walk with him. I swear I see Francis vanish through a side door as we enter but maybe its just the sun doing silly things to my head.


	3. Fire Melts Ice

I can't help but notice how huge Sebastian's hands are as we walk, my tiny ones are lost in his rough, calloused hands. The silence is uncomfortable and awkward. I miss how we once were, the easy friendship we shared before Nostradamus' prophecy and all that followed. I miss his banter and comfort he used to bring me. I want it back, I have to try. I squeeze his hand and when he turns his face towards me I give him a smile.

''Will this do?'' He nods towards a window seat and sets his cup of wine down before I can respond. I follow him and curl my legs under me as I sit, head leaned against the stone wall. It's hardly lady like but I'm not in the mood to care. When Sebastian comments on my lack of grace I laugh and respond with a joke about his unroyal hands, they're not smooth like a future kings should be. We fall into an easy rhythm of chatter and I slowly feel a weight lift off my shoulders, we haven't said anything more than 'good morning' in months. I've missed this, I can hardly remember the last time we laughed together. When my ladies come to fetch me at mid day I can hardly believe two hours have passed.

''I'll see you tonight. Goodbye Sebastian.'' I rise and brush off my crinkled skirts.

''I'll see you then.'' He stands, moving a hand through his hair, ''And Mary, please call me Bash. You sound like my mother.''

''Goodbye,_ Bash._'' I force the name out of my mouth, it's easier than I thought it would be. I turn on my heel and link Greer's arm before leaving down the corridor.

* * *

The dress they choose is gold, with a tight bodice and huge skirt. Kenna braids golden ribbons into my hair and clasps a simple gold chain around my neck. When Bash greets me outside my chambers I slip my hand through his arm rather than walking awkwardly by his side. We make our way to the hall, exchanging the odd comment about the evening.

I see him before he sees me. He's standing, leant against the wooden door frame, his hair looks darker in the shadow of the entry way. The embellishments on his black coat are gold, ironically matching my dress. I catch his eyes and stiffen, leaning my whole body away from Bash, the icy layer of indifference towards him freezing over again. How can I ever learn to love Bash when Francis is always standing right there. I feel his proximity as we pass like a naked flame and his eyes bore into my back as we walk into the room. Bash, obviously excited by our new found friendship, holds me a little too tightly when we dance. He talks excitedly in my ear about nothing interesting. I try desperately not to look at Francis and find myself looking nowhere but. He stands in the corner, a blonde girl holding his arm and leaning her body close to his. I would feel jealous if I didn't know his face so well. I know he's bored, his eyes are glazed slightly and he's fiddling with a loose stitch on his coat. When the music stops suddenly Francis meets my gaze. I realize I've been staring and avert my eyes quickly, a heavy blush forming on my cheeks.

''Mary? Wouldn't that be fun? When you're free from duties, of course.'' Bash pulls away from me, his eyes bright with excitement.

''I'm sorry, what?'' I haven't heard a word he's said. His face falls and he drops my waist.

''Nothing, don't worry about it.'' He stalks off towards where his father is stood.

I rock slightly on the balls of my feet, hand going to rub my waist where Bash's grip got too strong. I'm dazed, not noticing the people slowly filtering from the floor to their seats. I don't notice the figure walk towards me until he's two feet away. Francis.

''I need to speak to you.'' His voice is like iron. ''Outside.''

He's changed since we last spoke, his hair is cut shorter and his once boyish figure has filled out somewhat. He looks more like a man than the boy I lost. His eyes are the same though, liquid sapphires that used to anchor me to the earth and make me feel like I was floating at the same time. They're harder than they used to be, and surrounded by faint purple. He looks tired. He looks defeated.

''Mary.'' I hear my name catch in his throat, his voice pulls me from my daydream, ''It's important. Outside?''

''Yes!'' I'm too enthusiastic. ''Lead the way.'' I feel as is I have been set alight, the antidote to my frozen heart. I haven't been this close to him in months, let alone hear him say my name. I follow him through the room, not registering Bash's anxious eyes on my back.


	4. Away

The cool quiet of the corridor is a welcome break from the party, my eyes take a while to adjust to the shadows. Eye shut and mouth set in a hard line, Francis rubs his temples as if soothing a headache.

''Francis,'' I find myself struggling to say his name. No response. ''_Francis_? Talk to me!''

I'm transported to a simpler time, when we were engaged to be wed and he kissed me on the lawn. I had wanted him to since the day I arrived and I saw him carving swords in our childhood play rooms, I knew I loved him. Things seemed much simpler then, even the threat of marrying Tomas doesn't seem so awful in retrospect. At least it was an adventure, a morbid adventure of danger and passion. I would pay all the gold in the world to go back to that time.

His eyes fly open, they're burning. ''Stop.''

''Stop?'' I feel my eyebrows knit together, ''stop what?''

''Stop! Stop dancing with him and looking at me! Stop catching my eye when I'm in the company of others! Stop keeping me awake at night! I can't spend another tedious hour thinking of you Mary. Just stop.'' His face is tortured as he turns on his heel and rests his forehead against the wall. When it comes again his voice is weaker, childlike. ''Please.''

I'm stunned. I feel tears well and fall before I can stop them. The evening draft and sheer proximity to him makes my hands shake and skin prickle.

''I'm sorry Francis.'' I can't count the number of times I've apologized. My voice is thick with tears, ''What do you want me to do? What are you going to do?''

I can hardly catch by breath before he takes two strides towards me and crushes his lips to mine. I don't protest. My body moulds instantly with his as his hands go to my hair. I'm glad my ladies left it loose, I still dream of the way he used to rake his fingers through it. Slowly backing further into the shadows I wrap my arms around his neck to fuse our bodies together. My light touch on the nape of his neck causes him to groan lightly. My head screams for me to stop this but I can't, I part my lips and feel myself hit the stone wall. He pulls away and leans his forehead against mine, our noses presses together, breath coming out in short gasps. Only now I realize how lonely I am, how starved of human contact. The warmth of his body feels like a thick fur in the winter. Bash is my December and he is my August refuge, a shaft of sunlight thawing me out from the very soles of my feet to the tip of my nose, where he places a kiss before returning hungrily to my mouth. Our kisses slow and his arms snake around my hips. I rest my hands on his chest where I can feel his heartbeat, longing for the days when I used to rest my head there. Those sun soaked mornings when we could just _be_. I feel those days like something sharp in my heart.

''I love you.'' I'm crying now, sobs shaking through my chest. ''I'm so sorry Francis, I'm sorry for everything. I love you.''

He kisses me soundly on the lips and then each cheek before pulling away and straightening his coat, his long fingers entwined with mine.

''I love you too Mary, but you're married to my brother. I've heard rumours. My page tells me that my mother is residing in Paris and I think the best thing would be to take Charles and Henry too her. It's our only option now.'' His eyes have cooled to smoking embers and his thumbs go to wipe stray tears from my cheeks. ''Don't cry.'' He pleads, ''Be strong Mary, you're a queen. You're my queen. I-''

His words are cut short by my name being called from the door way. It's Bash. I can't remember how long we've been out here. When I look to Francis he's gone. Wiping my eyes and licking my lips I walk towards the voice. I walk away from Francis.


End file.
